Fun and Ballgames
by Isha-libran
Summary: There had to be a betting pool. Someone, somewhere had made a bet that he would take one look at their costume and…what? Laugh? Swear? Faint?


**Title:** Fun and (Ball) Games  
**Word Count:** 1,752  
**Rating:** G  
**Any Warnings:** Um, crack?  
**Prompt being used:** Halloween/Masquerade  
**Timeline:** Set sometime during season three  
**Summary:** There had to be a betting pool. Someone, somewhere had made a bet that he would take one look at their costume and…what? Laugh? Swear? Faint? If he could just figure out what the appropriate reaction was, he'd give it to them, just so that they'd stop parading themselves before him.

Disclaimer: I own none of these very entertaining characters, please don't sue me. Thank you.

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'Come on, Gwendal, it'll be fun!'

He refused to look up, knowing that if he did, he would be caught by those puppy dog eyes that he could almost _feel_ on him. And then it would be all over, he'd weaken and give in, to his everlasting regret.

'Gwendal, everyone's going, it wouldn't be right if you were the only one who didn't come…'

'Your Majesty,' he sighed as he looked up at last, now that he felt he had gotten a strong enough grip on himself. 'I apologise for missing this party, but there really is too much work for me to leave at such a critical juncture.'

Which was a lie, of course. The paperwork was almost entirely done, Gunter had seen to it himself, he had been so excited by the propect of tonight's party that he had breezed through it all at record speed.

It had seemed like a silly idea for a party—dressing up in costumes—but it was the Maou's idea, so of course the entire castle had declared it the best thing they had ever heard. He ran a critical eye over the strange clothes the Maou was wearing, and shook his head.

'Isn't it great?' As usual, the boy had misinterpreted his expression. 'I know it's not the real thing, but it feels wonderful to wear a baseball uniform again!' He held his arms out as he turned this way and that, admiring himself. 'See, it's even got the logo! I can't believe Conrart went to all this trouble to get it made for me—'

'Your Majesty.'

The boy stopped his prattling, and fixed him with a wide eyed glance.

'If you don't mind, I need to get back to work now.'

There was a quick, disappointed sigh, and the Maou made his way to the door. 'I still wish you would take a break from work for _one_ night,' he grumbled. 'You can always get back to that tomorrow! Halloween only comes once a year!'

And thank the Shinou for that, he thought, as the Maou finally left him in peace.

He had just pulled out some of his older paperwork—he needed to look busy, and no one ever actually _looked into_ the paper on his desk, so he was safe—when the door opened again. He stared at the apparition in his doorway, and it was a moment before he could speak.

'Gunter?'

Now, there was no doubt that the man was attractive. In fact, he would even go so far as to say that Gunter von Christ was _very_ attractive. But he had always only seen him in the clothes he wore everyday, which were very different from the wedding dress he wore now.

He looked stunning.

Gwendal heaved a sigh. Undoubtedly, sometime during the night there would be a drunken proposal—or even a proposition—the guest list included most of the houses of the Ten Nobles, after all—and _he_ would be called in to clean it all up.

So it was understandable that he glowered now at the man before him. 'Why are you dressed like _that_?'

'Why? Don't you think His Majesty will like it?'

He refrained from rolling his eyes, but only just. 'I'm sure His Majesty will like it, as will everyone else in the hall,' he said pointedly, but Gunter seemed to have only heard the first part of the sentence, because he had clasped his hands together excitedly, and practically _skipped_ out of the room.

The man really was getting dangerously unstable. Something would have to be done about it. Gwendal pulled a piece of paper toward him, and made a note of it.

'What do you think, Your Excellency?'

He looked up at the figure in his doorway with a frown. The words sounded like they should have come from Yozak, but that voice…

The man in his doorway certainly looked like him—if he had been on a mission—what with the hundreds of ruffles on his dress, the high heels and the fan he hid behind, but there was something subtly _wrong_ about the picture.

And then a man in a brown uniform stepped up next to him with a smile, and Gwendal understood.

'Conrart?' he asked, eyes wide. 'Is that…_you_?'

The man lowered his fan, and there was his brother's familiar smile. 'I told you he'd guess,' he said, turning to his companion. 'Now pay up.'

Yozak dug into the pockets of his uniform and flipped a coin into his friend's waiting palm. 'That's because you had to open your big mouth,' he grumbled good naturedly. 'The wigs and the make up are _perfect_! It would've been more difficult to guess if you hadn't given it away.'

Gwendal stared at the two men, and then finally something occurred to him. 'How did you get Conrart's uniform to fit, anyway?'

'I got a special one tailored,' Yozak replied with a smile. 'The Captain's a little too narrow across the shoulders for his to fit me.'

'Sorry to disturb you, Gwendal,' Conrart said, ignoring the other man's jibe, 'but Yozak insisted our disguise would fool _everyone_.'

'Well, we need to get going, Excellency, or we'll be late.' Yozak looked over his shoulder at the door, a smile on his face. 'I've heard Lady Celi's got Greta dressed in a minature version of her cape and whip outfit—very authentic. Can't miss that!'

Gwendal shuddered as the door shut behind them. He'd have to have a long talk with Greta tomorrow. If she had gotten too influenced by his mother…

He had just made another note on his to-do list, when the door opened again. He nearly growled as he looked up, but stopped himself as he heard the voice of His Eminence Murata Ken. The man may prefer to act like a bratty teenager, but he was undoubtedly the Dainkenja of Shin Makoku, and an intellect to be respected.

'I still don't understand why I have to be dressed like this,' a tiny voice grumbled, and he blinked to see that the Shinou was perched on the man's shoulder, wearing…something form fitting and black, with a pair of wings on his back.

His Eminence was dressed the same way, and he raised his eyebrow at the shade as he entered the room. 'Consider this payback for that Daikenja machine you had Erhard create,' he said coolly.

He turned his gaze to Gwendal then, frowning as he took in his attire and his pose. 'You're not dressing up, Lord von Voltaire?'

'I'm sorry, Your Eminence, but I won't be joining you this evening,' he replied, trying to put on a regretful expression. The twinkle in the Shinou's eyes told him he had not entirely succeeded.

'Brother!'

Wolfram interrupted the conversation, and a small, pleased smile lit Gwendal's face as he looked at his youngest brother. Of course Wolfram wouldn't sacrifice his dignity to get dressed in a ridiculous costume. Atleast _one_ member of this castle could be counted on to uphold the decorum of being a Noble.

'Brother, Yuuri won't wear a matching costume,' he complained, stopping as he caught sight of His Eminence and the Shinou. 'What are _you_ supposed to be?'

'We're a couple of fairies,' His Eminence replied with a grin that fell flat at the uncomprehending looks on his audience's faces. 'Well, at least _Shibuya_ got it,' he grumbled, even as the Shinou began to laugh. 'How come you're not in costume, Lord von Bielefeld?'

'I am,' Wolfram replied, frowning at him. 'I'm dressed as a soldier in my regiment.'

His Eminence chuckled as he laid a hand on the other man's shoulder and led him out of the room. 'I don't think you've quite grasped the concept of _costume_, Lord von Bielefeld—'

As their footsteps drew further and further away, Gwendal heaved a sigh of relief. Peace at last. The party must have started by now, and surely there would be no more people knocking on his door _now_.

And of course, that had to be the moment when the door opened to admit someone else into his room.

With a groan, Gwendal buried his head in his hands. There had to be a betting pool. Someone, somewhere had made a bet that he would take one look at their costume and…what? Laugh? Swear? Faint? If he could just figure out what the appropriate reaction was, he'd _give_ it to them, just so that they'd stop parading themselves before him.

'Headache?'

He groaned again, and there was the sound of quick footsteps. Cool fingers pushed his hands away from his face, pulling his head up to meet his gaze. 'Are you alright, Gwendal?'

'I'm fine, Anissna,' he sighed, closing his eyes. 'But I'm not coming to the party, so I would appreciate it if you would just go on ahead without me.'

'I can't do that,' she replied, letting her hands fall away from his face. 'My costume isn't complete without you.'

He snapped his eyes open at that, staring at her incredulously. From his one glimpse of her as she had entered the room, he had seen that she was wearing a simple evening dress of red. She had looked beautiful, but surely that wasn't a _costume_?

'What do you mean?' he asked warily, looking her up and down.

'Oh, come on, Gwendal,' she smiled, setting her hands on her hips as she twirled to give him a proper look at her from all angles. 'Can't you guess what I'm supposed to be?'

He threw his hands up in exasperation. 'I don't know! _Poison Lady and Sidekick go Incognito_? _Mad Scientist and her Hapless Lab Rat_?'

She shook her head in mock dismay, a small smile on her lips. 'Silly,' she chided. 'I'm supposed to be the Future Lady von Voltaire, of course.'

He stared at her, and couldn't find it in him to resist when she pulled him to his feet and threaded her arm through his.

'That's a good costume,' he said finally, as she pulled the door closed behind them, and her answering smile was brilliant.

--

A deep sigh echoed around the room.

'I can't believe it! I had everything on the Maou, you know how convincing he can be—'

'I thought it'd be His Eminence for sure, but…'

'_Lady Anissina_?'

All three maids sighed again as they looked morosely at the sheet that held the details of the _Get Lord Grumpy to Join the Costume Ball Betting Pool_.

* * *

A/N: Yes. The crack, it hath run rampant. I do apologise. :P

Thanks for reading, all comment and concrit is very welcome. :)


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